Praise of Wine
We will drink wine and sing of Bacchus, inventor of dancing, lover of all wild music! He is like the Loves, he is dear to the Cytherean; through him rapture is born and grace brought forth, through him violence is restrained, through him grief is assuaged.
The graceful slaves bear in wine and all sorrow flies away to mingle with the wind-fed storm; we take wine and drink away misery.
What use is it to suffer anguish? What the end will be, who knows? Life is a mystery to us — ah, let me drink and dance and sleek myself with oil and lie with beautiful women! Grief? I am well enough practised in it!
We will drink wine and sing of Bacchus.
The graceful slaves bear in wine and all sorrow flies away to mingle with the wind-fed storm; we take wine and drink away misery.
What use is it to suffer anguish? What the end will be, who knows? Life is a mystery to us — ah, let me drink and dance and sleek myself with oil and lie with beautiful women! Grief? I am well enough practised in it!
We will drink wine and sing of Bacchus.
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